Suddenly I wake. It is 1:30 in the morning on the slopes of Ağrı Dağı. At 13,000 feet it is cold and dark. A light wind is blowing. Uraz hollers down from the mess tent a second time. It is unnecessary.
I climb the stairs from my office to the George Mark Elliot Library on the campus of Cincinnati Christian University. I am on a hunt. There is a rare (and ancient) word that has escaped the tools near my desk; this one requires the big muscles of the reference section.